Us Against The World
by Liphra
Summary: Join the third grudging rider as she and her dragon companion face a world filled with war, prejudices, and sarcasm. Mainly sarcasm.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: this is my first time writing a fanfic in…ever. So whoo! Eragon and Saphira haven't come in yet, but they will. Just wait. I hope I don't forget about this…remind me if I do. By the way, this story starts in Teirm. (Did I spell that right?)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon. I've made up a few of my own characters, but the rest is not mine.**

"Leave me alone!" she could hear her own voice, shrill with fear, as she backed further away from the two boys. The thirteen-year-old girl threw her skinny arms over her head as they threw stones at her, but her thin limbs provided little protection against the small rocks that pelted her.

"Stop!" stumbling backwards on the dock, she tried to shield herself from the onslaught. "Stop it!" a small stone shot past her head, its sharp edge slicing her cheek. She continued to move backwards in an attempt to get away, but the rocks kept coming. Finally her foot met no resistance as she stepped off the edge. Screaming, she plunged into the water.

The icy cold water shocked her as she made contact with it. Thrashing about furiously, she attempted to reach the surface, but could not swim. Her movements became more and more sluggish as she began to run out of oxygen.

In desperation, she inhaled water. It rushed into her lungs, and she was dimly aware of a strong grip on her arm. Hazel eyes closed, and she slipped into the painless bliss of unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Hey, back again! I hope this goes well. prays for inspiration **

Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon, nor the places and stuff. I own the few characters that I happened to make up, yadda yadda. Onward to the story!

She was dimly aware of something soft beneath her. Her head pounded with pain, and as she shifted, she became aware of a presence watching her. The girl sat up quickly, her brown eyes wide with uncertainty and fear.

She immediately regretted it, for the room blurred and began to spin. Weakly she sank back into the bed she had been laying on, wincing as she laid her aching head back on the pillow. She could not see clearly enough to locate where the other presence in the room was, much less identify it. As her vision began to clear, she managed to make out the face of a large red dragon standing directly beside, her, watching.

"Ya-" her shriek was cut off as the creature stuffed a pillow in her mouth. She spat it out angrily.

"What are you-" it silenced her with a glare, and motioned with its head towards a man sitting in a chair, head bowed in sleep. Slowly, the girl propped herself up on one elbow to see.

His dark hair was rumpled and messy, obviously from staying up late in the night. He wore a simple tunic and a pair of trousers, but she could see a brilliantly made red sword with a strange symbol carved onto it. She watched as his head drooped lower, and his sword fell to the floor with a clatter. The young man woke with a start.

"Wha?" his dark brown eyes were wide with surprise. Calming down as he realized what happened, he glanced over at her, raising his eyebrows.

"Finally awake, huh? What's your name?" She wasn't sure if he could be trusted, but reasoned that there was no way she could help herself either way. There was a _dragon_ standing not three feet away from her.

"…Samila." He was silent for a moment.

"Well, then, Samila. My name is Murtagh (can't remember his hair color). Care to tell me why you were drowning in the sea?" She shook her head.

"Not before you tell me where I am, why you brought me here, and who you really are." He sighed.

"Tough one, aren't you? Suit yourself. You're in Uru'baen, I saw you fall off the dock, and I told you, my name is Murtagh. Is that all?" Samila narrowed her eyes.

"No. Actually, I have a few more. If you saw me fall in, why don't you know how I fell? And if you live here, then why were you over the sea? Why do you live with a dragon, and _what is this place?_" Murtagh sighed.

"You really do have a lot of questions, aren't you? Listen, I'm not going to answer all of them, but we're in the palace, just to let you know where you are. This is Thorn." He motioned to the Dragon. "Nobody but the King knows you're here, and he can see our every move. By now he must already know that you're awake." As if on cue, a knock sounded on the oaken door.

"Master Murtagh?" At the call, Murtagh leapt up, threw the blanket over Samila, and scrambled towards the door. Thorn sidled in front of her, obscuring the girl from view.

"Yes? What is it," Murtagh asked the servant that stood before him.

"King Galbatorix requests that the three of you join him for dinner tonight and seven-thirty." By the confused look on the messenger's face, Murtagh could tell that he had no idea what his words meant. "It's a formal occasion, I believe." The messenger bowed low, and Murtagh closed the door in his face.

Turning to face the bed, he shrugged his shoulders.

"I told you." Samila shoved the blanket off of her and looked around Thorn.

"_Me,_ in the presence of His Majesty? You've got to be kidding. What am I going to do? It's a formal occasion, he's a king, and I'm some peasant!" Groaning in despair, she flopped down on the bed with a thump. Murtagh raised his eyebrows.

"Are you always this pessimistic?"

"Depends on the situation." Her words were muffled by the pillow in her face. Sighing once more, the young man ran his hand through his already messy hair.

"Listen, dinner will be in an hour and fifteen minutes. I'll ask one of the servants to bring you a dress." He grimaced. "This is going to be awkward." He rang a bell on the side of the door. Almost at once, knocking sounded out in the room again. Thorn tossed the blanket over Samila against and hid her while Murtagh made his requests. The conversation took quite a while, to Samila's dismay, but she stayed hidden under the coverlet. The door closed, but as she began to pull her head out, Murtagh whispered,

"Don't. He'll be back shortly." They were silent for a few moments, before the knock was heard again. Murtagh opened the door and accepted the garments, before dismissing the servant and closing the door.

"You can come out now." Samila sat up in the bed and looked curiously at Murtagh.

"I'm not going to change with you around." He laughed shortly.

"I didn't expect you to. Listen, Thorn and I will go on a walk, and be back in about half an hour or so. Forty-five minutes at most. I think the dress will fit you. It's small." He tossed her the gown and turned to leave. The dragon moved with no audible command to join his Rider.

_We'll be back soon._ The door clicked shut behind them, leaving Samila staring at the wood in shock. It could talk! No – not it. Thorn was male.

Sighing, she looked at the dress lying on the bed in a pile, and stood, swaying slightly on her bruised legs. Pulling off her dirty top and trousers, she slid into the clothing, surprised by how soft the dark green material was. The strapless gown gave her an elegant, slim look – not that she wasn't skinny enough already from malnourishment. With a fair about of grunting and stretching her arms in various uncomfortable poses, Samila managed to lace up the back of the dress. The only problem were her lack of shoes and bruises that dotted her arms, shoulders, neck, and face. She stared at herself in a small mirror that she found hanging on the wall. The dress may have been beautiful, but the rest of her was not.

Her dark brown hair was so tangled that it was clumped together as one large woven mat of hair, making it look shorter than it really was. Her arms and legs were still filthy, but she did not dare venture out of the room in search of a bath. Luckily, she found a small bowl of water by the bed (which Murtagh used for scrying), and dipped her fingers into it, rubbing her arms to rid herself of some of the grime. As Samila continued her search of the room, she found a few more things of interest; a hairbrush, and a mint-green sash that was meant for her dress. First, she used the brush to tackle the arduous job of untangling her unruly tresses. The process took only twenty minutes, much less time than she had expected (due to her habit and yanking out entire tangles at a time in frustration). Luckily, her hair was thick, and now tamed. But she could not leave it hanging around her waist.

Glancing around the room, she was disappointed to find nothing to aid her cause. Her eyes then fell on the sash that she had not yet put on.

_Well, it will work for the time being._ Seizing the thin, silky strip of cloth, she bound it around her brow, using it as a restraint for her long bangs that threatened to completely obscure her face from view.

The sound of the doorknob turning rooted her to the spot with dread.


	3. Chapter 3

She froze in horror, with no place to hide as the door slowly creaked open. There had to be a way out – even a temporary hiding place that would shroud her from view for a few moments.

Her thoughts were disturbed as she heard Thorn's voice (which she could know identify), saying,

_Relax, Samila. It's only us. _Her temper flared, and she crossed her arms, annoyed with the pair for having scared her so. She glared at the two as they stepped in and closed the door, before opening her mouth to speak.

"You could have warned me, given me a signal, or-" Murtagh cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"If somebody heard us talking, then they would either know I was hiding something, or think that I've gone crazy."

"Then you could have at least opened the door faster, instead of giving me such a fright!" He shrugged, looking at his shoes.

"I didn't know if you were done changing yet." A silence followed, giving each human a chance to observe the other's change of clothes. Murtagh had changed into a red tunic with slight gold embroidering, and a brown pair of trousers, along with leather boots. He even had a new belt for his sword.

"Well, you look royal," she observed dryly.

"And you're skin is black and blue," he retorted. Samila was surprised by the sudden sharp tone in his voice. Did she do something to annoy him?

"What's the matter," she questioned, taking a step closer.

"It's nothing," he replied hurriedly, still staring at the ground. "It's just that I'm nervous." He was silent for a moment. "You have no shoes." Samila rolled her eyes.

"Aren't you the keen observer? I never had any. Didn't have the money to buy them. That's why I go the bruises." She grinning and touched a finger to her lips. "Thief by nature and way of life. How else would I get food?" Thorn fixed her with a stare of disapproval.

_That's not a good way of life._ Samila put her hands on hips and retorted,

"It was either that or starve. I chose live, so too bad. Apologies for not being a girl with high and mighty noble morals." She glanced over to Murtagh, wondering if he had any input. He was rummaging in a small closet, and came up with a pair of moccasins. Handing them to her, he grunted,

"Use them. They'll be slightly to big, but you'll grow into them."

"You mean I can keep them?"

"Yes. I have no use for them now. I use boots." Samila slipped the shoes on and wiggled her toes.

"Fair enough." He was right. They were slightly too large. Only by a small amount, though. At least they wouldn't fall off. Murtagh turned to face her.

"Now, what to do with your bruises."

"Well, there's not much we can do. They'll never heal by dinner."

"Yes they will. Give me your arm," Murtagh commanded.

"No," she shook her head and retreated back a few steps.

"I won't hurt you. Just give me your arm. Trust me." They were silent for a minute or so before Samila slowly extended her right arm to Murtagh. He grasped her wrist in one hand and put his palm over one of the bruises.

"Waíse heill," she heard him say, and then turned her head to watch as the bruise disappeared, leaving only her pale skin behind. Gasping in disbelief, she stared at the young man before her, stuttering,

"But-wha-how?" He grinned at her amazement, finding it amusing.

"Magic." With this said, he proceeded to heal the rest of her visible bruises and cuts. It took about ten minutes, but when he was done, Samila looked as it she had never been injured at all. She was still in awe of what had just happened.

"Whoa," was all she seemed to be capable of saying at the moment. Murtagh flicked her forehead.

"Stop stuttering, and let's go. Is there anybody outside?" Thor snake his head around the door and peered from left to right.

_I see nothing._

"Good," Murtagh replied, and opened the door a little wider, glancing out himself. Finding the circumstances suitable, he motioned for Samila to follow the two of them. She did so without complaint, more interested in her surroundings that her anxiousness. They passed through countless hallways, so many that Samila was surprised that the two could navigate through them. Fmially they came to a large door. Murtagh Stopped, and turned towards her.

"Well, it's time for you to meet the king."


	4. Beautiful Deceptions

**Author's Note: Well, I forgot the disclaimer on the last two chapters. Blah. Anyways, thank you to o-dragon for all of the reviews and support! –hugs-You rock!**

Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon or Eldest, nor many of the characters. So far the only characters I've made up are the boys that attacked Samila, and, well, Samila.

Samila took a deep breath and gulped. She looked over at Thorn and Murtagh.

"You're coming too, right?" He nodded.

"He asked for the three of us."

"Just the king?"

"We'll be eating with both Galbatorix and Shruikan (did I spell that right?)."

"Shruikan?"

"His Majesty's black dragon." The blood drained from Samila's face.

"…black dragon?" Murtagh nodded, his face utterly serious.

"Galbatorix is a Dragon Rider. Have you not heard the tale of the Fall of the Riders?" Samila shook her head.

"Ah, it can't be helped. It's not polite to be late. Murtagh raised his right hand and knocked three times on the door.

It swung open slowly, as if by magic, and Samila found herself staring at the most lavish, elegantly furnished room she had ever seen. There were hundreds of candles lining the walls, placed on stunningly carved mahogany wood tables. A massive chandelier hung by a thick golden chain attacked to the ceiling, the candles set upon it filling the room with light.

A long table was centered in the middle of the room, with two enormous plates, and three average-sized ones. She guessed that they were for Murtagh, the King, and herself. The larger ones looked as if they were for the dragons.

While she stood staring at the scene, Murtagh faced straight ahead, staring at the man at the end of the table. He was tall and darkhaired, with strong muscles and pale skin. He looked about forty, and was garbed in the finest silk. His cold, calculating eyes were a pair of twin, lightless orbs.

It took Samila a few minutes before she noticed the man. Her mouth almost dropped, and by sheer willpower, she forced the shock off of her face. The man smiled at the three, and motioned for them to sit down. By an unspoken command, a titanic black dragon enetered through a large side door, and stood at its place at the table. Samila seated herself beside Murtagh, eyes wide. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the king and his dragon. She felt the blood rushing to her face as she noticed that the others were looking at her.

_This is mad. I must be going crazy. The King has a dragon. And I'm sitting at dinner with it._

_Him._ She paled as she was corrected by a voice in her mind. It was not Thorn. She stared at the black dragon. It-he blinked owlishly at her, and repeated,

_I'm a he._

_Oh…my._ She flushed with embarrassment at her mistake. Murtagh glanced at her questioningly, but Galbatorix was watching her with hawklike, knowing black eyes. She glanced uneasily at him.

_Can he read my mind?_ She immediately focused on the large platters on the long table in front of her. The King watched her for a little while longer, and then gestured to the food.

"Eat."

Not wanting to seem rude, Samila waited for him to begin first. As soon as he swallowed the first bite, she picked up a large serving spoon and placed a small amount of mashed potatoes, meat and a thick sauce on her plate. Tentatively, she sampled the food, and found it delicious. It was far better than any food she had ever tasted. Did the King and Murtagh always eat like this?

She watched Murtagh begin to eat out of the corner of her eye. He was tense, even while chewing and swallowing. It made her uneasy. The dragons were dining on enormous hunks of raw meat, still bloody and fresh. She determinedly avoided looking at the carcasses.

They ate in silence. As the minutes began to pass by them, Samila began to wonder what the point of this dinner was. The King had been staring intently at her the entire time, his eyes never leaving her even as he ate. Was he planning to simply sit there and scrutinize her the entire time? She shifted nervously in her seat, playing with the cloth of her dress under the table, all the while picking at the food on her plate. She had taken second helping, but now, she barely touched them, merely moving them around on the silver plate. Every once in a while a small mouthful would disappear down her throat.

_I shouldn't be here. This is crazy._ Samila fidgeted in her seat until Murtagh looked at her strangely. At once she settled down and stared at her plate once more.

_I can't take this silence._ As if on cue, the king suddenly spoke. Murtagh flinched and looked up at him. Smalia slowly raised her eyes, finding herself staring into the dark, empty pits that served Galbatorix and his eyes. He spoke directly to her.

"Tell me, child. Why do you think you are here?" Samila gulped visisbly.

"I…I don't know, Your Majesty." He raised at eyebrow at her, and her heart began to pound fearfully in her chest. She blinked in surprise as he smiled almost kindly at her, setting down his fork and leaning back in his seat. Shruikan raised his head up from his plate and gazed at her with unblinking eyes.

"Relax, child. I won't bite you," said the king. "In fact, I wouldn't dream of hurting you at all." His tone was much kinder that Samila had expected. He wasn't cruel at all.

"You wouldn't, Sire?" She tried to sound brave.

"Not in the least," he replied. And then he began to weave a tale. One of his plans for the Empire. One where the Riders would once again rise in power, and bring peace and order to the land. How Alagaesia would flourish under his reign. Villages and towns would be fully restored, and new cities would be built all over the kingdom. Alagaesia would be a center of trade, the arts, and the Urgals would terrorize the people no more.

She sat, entranced, as his words poured into her ears. He was so convincing, that she thought of nothing as she listened. The fork in her hand dropped onto the tablecloth from her unmoving hand. And they sat well into the night, while the king told Samila of his dream.

**Author's Note: Well, not really his dream. More like his –cough-maniacal-cough-deceptionofevil-cough- Thanks, o-dragon Obsidian Crystal, and dragon of the water for your reviews! O-dragon's left me a lot. You all rock!**


	5. Murtagh's View

Author's Note: Well, this is going to be a shorter chapter, I believe. From Murtagh's point of view. Whee.

Odragon: Aww…what are you allergic to? I hope your eye gets better. –pokes- Hey! You just spelled it:O I think it said somewhere in eragon that Galbatorix had black eyes. Lemme check.

**Aha. Page 389 in my paperback, Murtagh's little story about what happened.**

"…**The meal was sumptuous, but throughout it his black eyes never left me……."**

Aaaaaanyways, on with the story! insert dramatic arm gesture here 

**Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon or Eldest.**

_Lies. It's nothing but a pack of lies._ Murtagh sat, slowly chewing his food, as Galbatorix spoke. He had heard it all before, and he knew that it was not true.

_Careful, little one,_ Thorn admonished. _Mind your thoughts. You never know who can be listening._

_Don't I know it._ He glanced at Samila. She was sitting as if in a trance, arms hanging loosely at her sides, listening. From the look on her face, Murtagh saw that she would hear nothing else. He suppressed a sigh and swallowed.

_What now?_ He asked his companion.

_We wait for him to finish speaking,_ came the reply. He grunted in response through their mental connection.

The wait was a long one. Galbatorix talked for a while, and Murtagh was forced to wait the entirety of it. When at last, he stopped, Samila asked.

"How will the Riders rise to power again? The only dragons left are male."

_She is quite blunt,_ Thorn observed dryly.

_Not to mention clueless._

_You speak the truth._ Murtagh held his breath, and waited for the king to answer Samila's question.

He was silent for a minute or so, before asking softly,

"Do you really want to know?" By the look on the young girl's face, Murtagh could tell she wasn't so sure if she did anymore. It was a few moments before she summoned up the courage to speak.

"Ye-yes. I want to know."

"Very good. Murtagh, show her."

Murtagh blinked. Why him? He hadn't even been a part of the event, just a bystander in the duration of the dinner. However, he stood up without complaint and bowed low to the King, motioning for Samila to stand up. Thorn dipped his great head down, and then turned to follow Murtagh and Samila as they filed out the door.

As soon as the monstrous door slammed shut, Samila began to babble excitedly.

"Can you believe it, Murtagh? The Riders will be back, and there'll be so many new cities that you won't even be able to count them all! Do you think that His Majesty has started thinking up names for them all? Does he even make the names for them? The only thing I can't understand is how the Dragon Riders will rise into power again. But that's what you're going to show me, right? Are there other Riders like y-"

"Shut up!" The words died on her lips and she stopped walking. Murtagh regretted his words at once and bowed his head, refusing to look at the young girl. He walked faster, through the winding hallways of the castles. Thorn nudged Samila into action with his snout.

_He doesn't mean it._ Murtagh bit the inside of his cheek as Thorn chided him.

_That wasn't one of the smartest things you could have done._

_I know, alright!_ His sudden outburst of frustrated thought was harsher than he had intended. Thorn withdrew huffily.

This was even worse. His own dragon was ignoring him. Murtagh sighed and prodded at Thorn's consciousness.

_Would it help if I say that I'm sorry?_ The wall around the dragon's mind remained. Regret washed over him. The wall flickered, and then was let down.

_I know you are. Now tell her. _Murtagh bit his lip, and then he stopped and turned to face Samila. She stopped and stared at him with a mixture of remorse and resentment. He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry." Her eyes widened for a moment, before she said slowly,

"Me…too. But why were you mad at me? I was just talking about His Majesty's plan for the Empire. It's not bad." Murtagh seethed with anger. She just _didn't get it._ But he could not deny the king. He had to show her the dragon egg.

"It's nothing we need to talk about at the moment. Come." He beckoned for her to follow him again, and set off at a fast walk. His legs were long than hers, and soon she had to break into a slow jog to keep up as his strides became longer and faster. Soon they reached a small iron door.

Murtagh glanced both ways, before pulling a key from his pocket and sliding into the lock. As he twisted sideways, a dull click echoed in the hall.


	6. it's a rock

**Hello, all. It's me again! Arya: I can't tell you…-shifty eyes- O-dragon: MuHAHAHAHAHA! I shall counter with my Army of Giant Squid and Jellyfish! They can play poker. Mmmhmmm. Beat that. XD Miyu: Thanks for reading!**

**Uh…yeah. Hurrah?**

**Disclaimer: I do not or Eragon, Eldest, yadda yadda. Onward!**

As the door slowly creaked open, Samila held her breath.

_Move faster. Come on!_ She stood on her tiptoes and tried to peer over his shoulder. _What is it? Scoot over,_ she silently willed the young man.

_Patience, Samila,_ Thorn scolded gently.

_But-_ She stopped as Murtagh moved aside of his own accord.

She found herself looking at a rock. It was jade green, polished and smooth. White webbings covered the surface of it, with a few light speckles dotting the exterior. It sat almost expectantly on a red pillow perched upon a stand in the center of the stones room. Samila noted that there were no windows with curiosity. Maybe the stone was worth a lot. Her eyes gleamed.

"Do you like it?" asked Murtagh.

"It's beautiful," she paused, before asking, "What is it?" Murtagh rolled his eyes.

"It's a dragon egg, nitwit."

"Oh…" Her eyes grew as big as saucers.

A dragon egg. A real dragon egg. It could be the beginning of a new age. Samila felt her heart pounding with excitement in her ears. She was staring at a real dragon egg. By some unbidden command, she stepped forward and reached out to touch it.

A sudden jolt caused her to gasp in pain. Murtagh had a hold of her other arm in a vice-like grip. He twisted it behind her back and forced her to her knees in front of the stand. Her hair brushed against the egg, but nothing more. Wincing in pain, she was forced to bend forward to ease the pain. Murtagh let go of her suddenly.

"Up," he commanded. Throwing him a nasty stare, Samila stood up slowly, rubbing her aching arm.

"What was that for?" she demanded.

"Don't touch it," Murtagh replied flatly. "Let's go back." He turned towards the door.

"No," came her defiant reply.

"What?" He turned back to look at her.

"I said no."

"I'm not deaf. I heard you."

"Great. I'm not going." Murtagh gave way to an exasperated sigh. He winced at the mental stab he received from Galbatorix.

Samila snorted quietly to herself. She found herself staring at the egg again, glaring at it as her arm throbbed painfully.

_It's all that stupid rock's fault._ She turned her back on Murtagh and simmered silently. Suddenly she felt a sharp pain in the back on her head, and collapsed onto the stand in front of her.

------------------------------

Murtagh stared regretfully at the still form in front of him, blood staining the sash she had bound around her brow. He heard Thorn's angry snort behind him.

_I had no choice,_ he said shortly.

_Wrong,_ came Thorn's accusing voice._ You had all the choice in the world. You just chose the wrong one._ The red dragon turned on his rider and left the room, leaving Murtagh to think about his actions.

Murtagh sighed heavily. _What am I, a villain now? Everything I do marks me as a wrongdoer, and with every action I take, something bad happens! _ With a sudden wave a fury washing over him, he struck the stone stand that supported the egg. His hand ached and bled from the force of impact, but the egg did not move an inch. He glared at it for a moment longer. It remained in its place, mocking him.

"I don't have a choice," he half screamed. "I can't resist him! It's that or die!" he stopped short the moment after saying the word. Should he simply… die? Would it do any good? He laughed. Of course it would. The true question was whether of not he had the courage.

"Am I going mad?" he wondered quietly.

**Fwee! Poor Murtagh. I feel sorry for him. :( I hope he doesn't get mad at me for all of this. Sorry this chapter took so long. Brain block.**


	7. Chapter 7

"Unh…" rudely awakened by the hoot of an owl, Samila opened her eyes groggily. It was pitch black. As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she glanced around her, taking in everything and replaying what had happened in her mind's eye. She remembered being angry and the egg, and then a pain in the back of her head, receding into darkness.

"Murtagh," she breathed, and spent the next few minutes swearing under her breath and cursing his name. Her head and arm ached horribly. Slowly reaching to the back of her head, she winced as her fingers came into contact with dried blood. That… that…she couldn't think of anything terrible enough to call him.

She lay silently for a few minutes before recognition finally dawned on her. She was in Murtagh's room again, lying on his bead. He was once again asleep on the chair, and Thorn was nowhere to be found. Her mind wandered back to the previous events of the day. Eating with the king, and being introduced to the egg.

She paused to ponder the stone again. At first she had been confused, then angry at it for causing her pain. But now she was curious about it. It was, to say the least, quite an intriguing object. Not to mention quite valuable-looking. And, as most thieves, do, she found valuable objects _most _fascinating. In fact…

Sitting up silently, she slowly eased herself out of the bed. Luckily, it was flat and noiseless. Her moccasins gave her an advantage of stealth as she crept up behind Murtagh. Slowly, holding her breath, she reached into his pocket. He grunted, and she froze. Thankfully, he didn't awaken, and she quickly removed the key she had seen earlier. Grinning, she moved to the door.

One minute passed. Two. Still, she was taking painstaking caution with opening the door. It was another three full minutes before the door was open. Murtagh shifted in his sleep. In a flash she had darted out of the room, and was already closing the door. It took much less time than opening it, but was still just as silent.

Glancing furtively from side to side, Samila waited until she was absolutely sure that the coast was clear. She chewed on her lip, unsure of which way to go, and chose right. She padded swiftly down the hall, all senses strained to the utmost.

Kneeling, she inspected the ground around her, searching until she found a few drops of blood. Perfect. She straightened and continued, stopping every so often to make sure she was on the right track. Twice she took a wrong turn, and had to retrace her steps until she was at the fork in the halls. The corridors seemed endless. She was beginning to think that she would never find the door, until she turned the corner. There it was.

"Yes," she breathed, and slid the key into the lock, slowly twisting it until she heard a click. The door creaked open, and she entered. The egg was still sitting on its pillow.

"Too easy," Samila whispered. There were no guards waiting for her. Taking off one shoe, she tossed it. The moccasin hit the pillow, but nothing happened. She moved closer and retrieved her shoe, slipping it onto her foot again.

"…" Still wary, she reached out to touch the egg. It squeaked when her fingers came within an inch of it. Drawing in her breath sharply, Samila jerked her hand back. The egg squeaked again, and vibrated. It rolled off the pillow and landed on the stone floor with a loud crash. She swore loudly and pressed herself against the wall behind the door, waiting. Nothing happened. Still she did not move.

Ten minutes passed before she ventured to peek out from her hiding place. The egg of was still on the floor, shaking and squeaking. Suddenly, a crack appeared on it. Samila gasped involuntarily. Another crack began to form, and the two widened, until…

_Crack. _Samila sat down hard. Staring curiously at her was a baby dragon.

The hatchling was jade green, and no bigger than the pillow. It's wings looked far too big for the rest of it; it stretched its limbs out awkwardly, yawning.

"Dear Lord," she breathed. "A dragon." Was it real? She reached out to touch it, just to make sure.

As soon as her right hand came into contact with the small creature, a warm tingling spread across her hand, up her arm, and into the body. Her palm itched and burned like fire and ice warring against each other. She fought the urge to scream in panic as the dragon's eyes glowed.

Wrenching her hand away, Samila stared at the dragon hatchling in shock. Her palm still twinged. She looked at it, confused, and stared at the silver mark that had fixed itself upon her hand.

It took several moments for her surprise to pass. Once it did, however, she glared at the dragon furiously.

"Look what you did to my hand!" Standing up, she turned to go. She would leave this accursed palace, and everything that was in it. Suddenly she heard the dragon squeak again.

A strange sensation washed over her. She froze. The dragon squeaked again, only softer this time. It clicked. Apology. She turned to look at the hatchling with wide eyes.

It met her gaze with it's own, intelligent stare.

"You're kidding," she breathed. It clicked it tongue at her, and stretched out to touch her arm with its nose. She jerked back before it could, remembering what had happened the first time she had touched the hatchling. However, it scuttled after her, and when its nose brushed against her arm, she felt no pain. The scales were warm and smooth.

Samila began walking towards the door. The dragon came scrambling after her, squeaking and clicking as it went. She reached for the door handle, but it was thrown open by an unknown force, catching her in the face and knocking her over. She yelped in pain and twisted over, catching herself in her hands. The girl leapt upright, immediately thinking of the tiny dragon that was squeaking worriedly beside her. She stepped protectively in front of it while peering into the darkness behind the opened door. A familiar voice, now cold, called to her commandingly.

"Step away from the dragon."

"Murtagh?" He was standing a few feet away from the doorway, his eyes hard, sword in hand. Thorn was directly behind him, his head snake around his Rider to stare unblinkingly at them.

"Don't tell me you expected to get away so easily," he scoffed. "There are magical alarms placed on every inch of this place. I, and more importantly, the king, know exactly who goes in an out of here. Now step away from the dragon."

"No," Samila replied, although her voice was shaking. "No," she repeated. "I won't let you hurt him."

"Hurt him?" Murtagh laughed. "Don't be silly. He's far too valuable. We'll find him a proper Rider." He raised his right hand and pointed it, palm outstretched towards Samila. The silver mark on his palm was identical to that on Samila's, but it was glowing white hot with energy. Holding her own hand out, palm face up towards him, she shrieked,

"He already has a Rider!" Murtagh eyes widened, and in his surprise, he released the energy he had been collected. There was a blinding flash of light of light, a roar, a resounding crack, and a groan. When the dust settled, the slumped form of Samila was sprawled on the ground beside on of the stone walls. Blood was dripping onto the ground, and her face was white was a sheet. The young dragon fretted about her, squeaking in distress. Thorn snorted in surprise.

Ashenfaced, Murtagh swept in, picked up the unconscious girl, and left the room, the dragonling trailing behind his heels.


	8. Chapter 8

"-mila."

"Samila."

"Saaamilaaaa." Poke.

"Wake up, dammit!"

"What…holy toadsniffers."

She was sprawled sideways across a saddle in front of Murtagh. _Curse him._ More importantly, she was thousands of feet up in the air, sprawled sideways across a saddle in front of Murtagh. _Curse him even more._

"Samila?"

'Shut up. I'm still cursing you."

"Okay then." Silence. "You done now?"

"Pretty much."

"Great." More silence.

"Where are you taking me? What are you doing? Why are you doing this? What's going on?"

"You know, I think I liked it better when you were cursing me. Can we go back to that?"

"Shut up and tell me."

"That's very contradictory."

Samila attempted to kick him and nearly fell off Thorn. First he's Mister Solemn and cold, king of of hit innocent girls over the headland. Okay, so maybe she wasn't the greatest at making names. But were did this happy side suddenly come from.

"Are you drunk?"

"No."

"Just checking."

"Well gee, thanks for caring. Pfft."

"Anytime. Care to answer my questions now?"

"Right. I suppose I have to explain about the dragons and all." The dragon. Damn.

"Where is he!" Samila struggled to see around Thorn's steadily moving wings, sliding forward in the process.

"Calm down. He's fine and sleeping in the saddlebag.." A strong hand pulled her up into a sitting position, sending pangs of pain lancing through her head.

"I hate you."

"Great. Right then." He sighed. "Remember how I was acting in the castle after the meal?"

"You mean with the chip on your shoulder the size of Alagaesia?" Thorn snickered.

_Thanks._

"Something like that."

"I don't see why you were so grumpy. I mean, it's a great plan! Didn't you hear him! Cities, riders, all that-"

"Are you done?" Samila huffed, but fell silent. "Anyway, what you heard then was a lie. Cities? Plenty of them. All oppressed by the king. He'll rule the land with an iron fist. The riders will all be evil, corrupted."

"You're a rider, too," she pointed out. Murtagh chuckled softly.

"I may be the most corrupted of them all."

The two were silent for the next few minutes. Finaly Samila asked,

"So were are you taking me?"

"Were Galbatorix can't find you, and were he can't reach your mind. There's a slight problem though."

"Problem?"

"He can read my mind, so if I know were you are, he can find you."

"How's that going to work out?"

"Um….well, I'm going to drop you off in the desert."

"What!" She looked uneasily downward, and already they were above sand. Samila glanced back, but there was no sign of the scrubland they had been on before. "Why?" Thorn began the descent. "Stop!"

"Look, will you just listen?"

"I'm listening, just not believing. Come on, he's the king. And you're-"

"Some random guy who pulled you out of the water and threw you into a world of weirdness. And I'm about to dump you in a desert. I get it."

"Okay. I'm listening."

"Fine. I want you to go and find Surda, The Varden, or the elves. Whatever comes first."

"Which means Surda, right?"

"Maybe. How would I know."

"Please. The Varden is just a legend. A nonexistent group that people made up some hundred years ago. And the elves are gone. Dead."

"Idiot. The Varden are real, okay? The elves are alive, they are just in hiding. How isolated are you?"

"Who's isolated, Mr. I Live in the Palace all by my lonesome?" Thorn sneezed.

_I resent that._

"Sorry. I meant human company."

_Dragons are far better than humans, thank you very much._

"I guess. Depends on the personality."

_Hmph._ There was a slight jolt as he landed. Murtagh jumped down and offered a helping hand to Samila.

"I don't wanna go." There was a pleading tone to her voice.

"You have to. It's either that or end up like me."

"But you're nice. Sometimes."

Thorn had apparently grown tired of their arguing, as he snaked his snaked upward and wrapped it around her waist, firmly depositing her in the sand. Murtagh unload a haversack and handed it to her.

"Right. The supplies with last you a while. The dried meat is for the dragon. Speaking of which," he clambered up Thorn's back and reached into a saddlebag. The dragon squeaked in protest as it was rudely awakened and lifted out. Murtagh deposited him in Samila's arms.

"There you go. Remember, Elves, Surda, or Varden."

"W-" He was already on Thorn, and dragon was taking off.

"Look for Eragon," he called, "And tell him hello for me. I may not ever be able to myself."

"M-" she was temporarily lost for words, but the sight of him leaving her was enough to bring the power back. "Murtagh, when I get out of here I will hunt you down and strangle you!"

But he was already gone.

Samila swore loudly, kicking at the sand.

"Great. Leave me in the Middle of the Desert. And thanks for telling me where to go. Navigating will be _so_ easy. I think I'll just mosy on over to the Elves and the Varden and tell that that Murtagh says hello to someone named Ergoom. What a dumb name. Sounds like a mutant plant." She glanced over at the dragon, who was eyeing the sand with distaste. "My thoughts exactly." Hefted the haversack, she set out at a brisk walk, the opposite way from that they had come from.

It was not long before Samila came to hate the Desert and everything about it even more than she had previously. Her moccasins were filled with sand, and every time she set her foot down, in sank into the grain uncomfortably. Thus, her main pastime was swearing at the ground and telling it all of the terrible things she would do to it when she was out, although many of them sounded completely ridiculous. Foul-tempered and tired, she glared at the dragon, who was sleeping comfortably in the crook of her arm.

"Oh yes. Thanks for making me carry you around all day while you catch up on your beauty sleep. Dumb animal. I don't see why I ever bothered protecting you in the first place. Then I wouldn't be in this mess. It's all your fault, you know." The hatchling opened one eye and yawned before going back to sleep.

**Sorrryyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! I didn't write all summer when my school laptop was taken back, but now I have it again, and I'll update more often, I promise! –bow- -bow- thanks for all the reviews you've given me even though I wasn't writing. Stab me now. –bangs- head against table-**


	9. Chapter 9

At the moment, there was nothing Samila wanted to do more than scream. She was deserted in the middle of the desert, with no idea where she was going, no idea of what to do, and carrying nothing but a haversack and a hatchling dragon. Not to mention how hard it was to walk through sand in a dress. Couldn't Murtagh at least have given her a spare change of clothes?

"Dumb Murtagh. Dumb desert. Dumb dress. Dumb shoes. Dumb sand. Dumb Ergoom. Dumb king. Dumb elves, Varden Surda- Dumb Everything! Yes, you too!" she said, glaring at the hatching in her arms. "Talk! Fly! Get me out of here! Find food! Do something other than sleeping and making me lug you through a desert of hot sand! You're useless! Dragons are supposed to be strong and wise! I'm not seeing any strong and wise. BE STRONG AND WISE!" Yes, she sounded stupid at the moment. But she was tired, she was cranky, and she was lost.

_You complain a lot._ That shut her up.

"You talk already?"

_No, this is you dead mother speaking. How are you? _Great. Just started talking and already into the sarcasm. Just peachy,

"Oh, very funny," spat Samila. "You surprised me, that's all. I thought it would take you longer."

_Just because you humans take years to learn to speak doesn't mean dragons do._

"Shut up." Still, it was nice to have someone to talk to. "Any idea what to do?"

_Other than walk? Not particularly. If you haven't noticed, there's no other way to get through this._

"Can't you fly?"

_No idea. Not really too keen on trying yet. That sand looks disgusting._

"Try walking through it," she muttered.

_Not to mention if I could fly, you'd try and make me carry everything._

"Lazy bum."

_Are you kidding? I'm less than a quarter of your great hulking bulk!_

"Not for long you won't be. Thorn's big enough to carry two people and fly easily."

_That would take me at least six months._

"Well, if you haven't noticed, we only have a month's worth of food."

_Then you'd better pick up the pace._

"Argh! You are a hopeless case!" Samila viciously kicked some of the sand in front of her, and merely succeeded in filling her moccasins with even more sand. "Great! Just great," she huffed.

_Someone needs to learn to control her temper._

"Control my temper? You want me to control my temper while I'm trudging through a burning desert with no idea where in the name of I-don't-know-what, with a month's provisions, carry _you_, and on top of that, I've just got the most powerful man in all of the land against me, with two dragons on his side, just because I decided to defend your sorry carcass. So if you haven't noticed, I REALLY COULDN'T CARE LESS IF YOU THINK I SHOULD CONTROL MY TEMPER!"

_Save your breath for walking. We've got a long ways to go._

"You are such a-"

_The more you yell, the longer we're here._

"I'll have you know that I hate you with a passion right now."

_Good for you._

"Thanks for the encouragement there." She sighed and shifted the haversack on the bag, continuing her trek through the seemingly endless sand.

-----------------------------------

Night had fallen by the time Samila stopped to rest and make camp. That is, if you could call a threadbare blanket lying on the sand a camp. She had recently found out, much to her dismay, that young dragons could not breathe fire.

"What?!"

_Must I explain again?_

"Oh, shut up. I hate you." She sullenly flung a few strips of meat at his head.

_It's not my fault. You couldn't even string a sentence together when you were two days old._

"Oh, making fun of me now, are you?"

_Oh, not at all._

"Har har har. So funny."

_I try._ Samila wrapped the blanket around herself and lay down.

"You can just sleep in the cold, then."

_I don't need a blanket. I have an inner heater._

Damn. Her plan had backfired. Stupid dragon. Always ruining everything. She yawned and curled into a small ball.

"Shut up and sleep."

_I could say the same for you._

The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was kicking sand at the hatchling.

**Yes. This is a really short chapter. I had an extreme brainblock for the last… a really long time. Let's go with that. Anyhoo, disclaimer, don't own stuff, blah blah… All that happy stuff. And thank you to all my reviewers! **

**-Liphra**


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